May 21, 2009

"The Dylan Watch" (by Lawrence J. Epstein)

In this post, I
want to offer an alternative way of viewing three songs on Dylan’s album Highway 61 Revisited. Those songs can be
seen as a dialogue between different parts of Dylan’s self.

Many interpreters
understandably consider "Like A Rolling Stone" as a mockery of some
woman. Candidates have included the pop actress Edie Sedgwick, Joan Baez, and
others. But, especially in the context of other songs on the album, it is also
possible to view the song in another way completely.

This alternative
interpretation is that a new creative part of Dylan, formed by a reaction to
maddening internal confusion and the roar of demands from the world, is angrily
snarling and singing to the old Dylan, the one who was sure of himself and
clear about his identity as king of the folk singers.

What makes the song
particularly intriguing is that the new Dylan refers to the old Dylan as a
woman. The old Dylan is "Miss Lonely." Why a woman? One
interpretation is that this newer creative self sees self itself as fragmented
and is allowing one part of the self to explore another. Additionally, within a
self are all sorts of “others” that the uncreative self suppresses. So the new
self notes the existence of a feminine side.

In one verse, the
new Dylan sings to the old Dylan about Albert Grossman. Dylan's enigmatic
manager is called his "diplomat" in the verse, and the concluding
line is about Grossman's supposed taking of Dylan's money:

You used to ride on
the chrome horse with your diplomat

Who carried on his
shoulder a Siamese cat

Ain't it hard when
you discover that

He really wasn't
where it's at

After he took from
you everything he could steal.

At the end of the
song, Dylan pleads with his former self to go see someone who used to amuse him
with language:

You used to be so
amusedAt Napoleon in rags and the language that he usedGo to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse

Who is “Napoleon in
rags”? He is Dylan (the “Napoleon” of singers) before the fame and before the
money, when he lived in “rags” but was pleased with himself, when he was
excited by his bursts of creative language, a Dylan driven by artistic motives
not business interests.

In 1970, Nora
Ephron and Susan Edmiston interviewed Dylan and asked about the identity of
Queen Jane in the song "Queen Jane Approximately." Dylan answered in
what must have appeared to be one of his whimsical and nonsensical responses.
He said: "Queen Jane is a man." But he was having fun with them by
sneaking in the truth in a barrage of evasive responses.

In the song, the new
Dylan is speaking to the old Dylan, again represented as a woman. In this case
the king of folk music is appropriately a Queen. The "approximately" in
the song’s title is there because such a feminine representation is not
precisely his former self. The speaker mentions the exhaustion Dylan must feel
about his self and his songs ("you're tired of yourself and all of your
creations") and the anguished folk crowds angry that he is not singing
protest songs ("all of your children start to resent you"). The
speaker then invites "Queen Jane" to see him, to get away from the
“bandits” in the commercial world in which “Queen Jane” lives out a musical
life. The speaker is Dylan’s untainted creative self urging the successful
Dylan to return.

Dylan’s dialogues
with his self continue in another way on the album in "Ballad of a Thin
Man."

Most critics see
the song as an attack on journalists, who don't understand Dylan at all but
continue to write about him. This is certainly plausible--especially
considering the mention of a pencil in the first verse--but the song seen in
its entirety leads to a very different interpretation.

In this
interpretation, the new genuine and creative Dylan calls the old, confused
Dylan “Mr. Jones” and sees him as someone who doesn’t understand the
homosexuality around him and is confounded by it. The language of the song is
filled with very explicit gay imagery:

Well, the sword
swallower, he comes up to you

And then he kneels.

He crosses himself

And then he clicks
his high heels

And without further
notice

He asks you how it
feels

And he says:
"Here is your throat back

Thanks for the
loan."

Given this imagery,
it is more sensible to understand the "bone" the geek hands Mr. Jones
and the "pencil" in Mr. Jones' hand as he walks into the room as
phallic images.

The new Dylan is angry
at the old Dylan for not understanding what is happening to him, for not
comprehending the warping of his own creative core, the part of himself that was
genuinely thrilled by the creative possibilities of combining language and
music. The song is a cry from within mourning for what has happened to that
part of Dylan’s self.

Comments

In this post, I
want to offer an alternative way of viewing three songs on Dylan’s album Highway 61 Revisited. Those songs can be
seen as a dialogue between different parts of Dylan’s self.

Many interpreters
understandably consider "Like A Rolling Stone" as a mockery of some
woman. Candidates have included the pop actress Edie Sedgwick, Joan Baez, and
others. But, especially in the context of other songs on the album, it is also
possible to view the song in another way completely.

This alternative
interpretation is that a new creative part of Dylan, formed by a reaction to
maddening internal confusion and the roar of demands from the world, is angrily
snarling and singing to the old Dylan, the one who was sure of himself and
clear about his identity as king of the folk singers.

What makes the song
particularly intriguing is that the new Dylan refers to the old Dylan as a
woman. The old Dylan is "Miss Lonely." Why a woman? One
interpretation is that this newer creative self sees self itself as fragmented
and is allowing one part of the self to explore another. Additionally, within a
self are all sorts of “others” that the uncreative self suppresses. So the new
self notes the existence of a feminine side.

In one verse, the
new Dylan sings to the old Dylan about Albert Grossman. Dylan's enigmatic
manager is called his "diplomat" in the verse, and the concluding
line is about Grossman's supposed taking of Dylan's money:

You used to ride on
the chrome horse with your diplomat

Who carried on his
shoulder a Siamese cat

Ain't it hard when
you discover that

He really wasn't
where it's at

After he took from
you everything he could steal.

At the end of the
song, Dylan pleads with his former self to go see someone who used to amuse him
with language:

You used to be so
amusedAt Napoleon in rags and the language that he usedGo to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse

Who is “Napoleon in
rags”? He is Dylan (the “Napoleon” of singers) before the fame and before the
money, when he lived in “rags” but was pleased with himself, when he was
excited by his bursts of creative language, a Dylan driven by artistic motives
not business interests.

In 1970, Nora
Ephron and Susan Edmiston interviewed Dylan and asked about the identity of
Queen Jane in the song "Queen Jane Approximately." Dylan answered in
what must have appeared to be one of his whimsical and nonsensical responses.
He said: "Queen Jane is a man." But he was having fun with them by
sneaking in the truth in a barrage of evasive responses.

In the song, the new
Dylan is speaking to the old Dylan, again represented as a woman. In this case
the king of folk music is appropriately a Queen. The "approximately" in
the song’s title is there because such a feminine representation is not
precisely his former self. The speaker mentions the exhaustion Dylan must feel
about his self and his songs ("you're tired of yourself and all of your
creations") and the anguished folk crowds angry that he is not singing
protest songs ("all of your children start to resent you"). The
speaker then invites "Queen Jane" to see him, to get away from the
“bandits” in the commercial world in which “Queen Jane” lives out a musical
life. The speaker is Dylan’s untainted creative self urging the successful
Dylan to return.

Dylan’s dialogues
with his self continue in another way on the album in "Ballad of a Thin
Man."

Most critics see
the song as an attack on journalists, who don't understand Dylan at all but
continue to write about him. This is certainly plausible--especially
considering the mention of a pencil in the first verse--but the song seen in
its entirety leads to a very different interpretation.

In this
interpretation, the new genuine and creative Dylan calls the old, confused
Dylan “Mr. Jones” and sees him as someone who doesn’t understand the
homosexuality around him and is confounded by it. The language of the song is
filled with very explicit gay imagery:

Well, the sword
swallower, he comes up to you

And then he kneels.

He crosses himself

And then he clicks
his high heels

And without further
notice

He asks you how it
feels

And he says:
"Here is your throat back

Thanks for the
loan."

Given this imagery,
it is more sensible to understand the "bone" the geek hands Mr. Jones
and the "pencil" in Mr. Jones' hand as he walks into the room as
phallic images.

The new Dylan is angry
at the old Dylan for not understanding what is happening to him, for not
comprehending the warping of his own creative core, the part of himself that was
genuinely thrilled by the creative possibilities of combining language and
music. The song is a cry from within mourning for what has happened to that
part of Dylan’s self.

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Radio

I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours laterto the greatnessof Teddy Wilson"After You've Gone"on the pianoin the cornerof the bedroomas I enterin the dark